


The Brave One

by Littlebutterfly



Category: One Direction
Genre: AU, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Father Louis, M/M, Military, War, coming home, family fic, father harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 12:26:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlebutterfly/pseuds/Littlebutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy was curled into Louis’ lap and the soft sounds of the lightly playing Michael Bublé album filled and flowed through the room, the fire crackled near the Christmas tree, and the whole feel gave a sort of calming aura.<br/>“What do you want for Christmas daddy?”<br/>Louis didn’t actually think she was still awake, “I dunno baby. What do you want?”<br/>There was a small silence, as if she was hesitating to respond, and then a quiet, barely audible “I just want my papa home.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Brave One

When Harry first tells Louis that he’s signed up for the war, and his first mission is in two months’ time, Louis doesn’t think it could be possible for anyone to feel what he’s feeling. Like his stomach has just imploded, like there’s the Grand National going on inside of him, like a bushfire is being lit in his throat.  
When Louis first tells their three year old daughter Darcy, that her papa, who is the light of her life, her sunshine through the storm, is going away for a long time, Louis realised that the pain he felt when Harry told him had only doubled.  
“What do you mean papa’s going? Doesn’t he love us anymore?” And if someone had stabbed Louis with a piece of glass, it would have hurt less than this.  
“Papa love’s us so much sugar,” Louis promised, “He’s going away because he’s brave and strong, and a good person, he’s going to save people.” And that makes her understand a little bit better, “He’ll be back soon though, won’t he?” She asks, her little voice laced with way too much worry and concern that a three year old should know of.  
“Yeah babe,” Louis assured, though he was saying it to convince himself maybe as much as to convince Darcy, “He’ll be back soon.”  
…  
It’s a sad day full of choked tears and whimpers of protest when Harry has to leave. They’d woken up little Darcy and taken the pyjama clad little girl into the car, where they drove to the airport. Louis had been biting his lip, staring blankly out the window as he willed the stinging tears back into his eyes. Harry was going, and as devastating as that was to him, Louis knew he needed to be there for his little girl. Not only was Louis losing his boyfriend, but Darcy was losing her Papa.  
The airport was full of families, all grieving at the semi-permanent (All knowing that there was every chance it could be permanent) loss of a brother, a husband, a dad, a boyfriend. Somehow the atmosphere of the place made Louis’ heart ache more, but at the same time, he felt selfishly a little bit better of himself, because at least he wasn’t the only one who knew what this pain was feeling like. But none of them knew the pain of having Harry going. Louis was sure that was worse than anything.  
“I’ll see you both soon, yeah?” Harry’s green eyes were full of every emotion in the book. Love and sadness and maybe a little bit of fear, for himself or for Louis and Darcy, Louis didn’t know. And the little family shared their final, tight hug, Harry pressing gentle kisses to both Louis’ and Darcy’s heads, a shaky smile on his lips. He was still the brave one. Always the brave one. “I love you both so much.”  
And then, like the end of a long day, when the sun was disappearing behind the sky, he was gone. The sun to their lives was gone.

The months were hard, and Louis had sort of expected for it to get easier to cope, like losing a limb. But this was more like slowly, bleeding to death, in the most melodramatic way possible. And the pain only worsens over time. Louis was glad though that he still had a bit of sunshine in his life. His little Darcy, who was growing more mature by the day, whose features resembled Harry’s perfectly (Maybe that’s why he loved her so much). Little Darcy, who was always humming that darned song that Harry used to sing to her when they were playing dress ups about the raindrops on kittens and whiskers on roses or something like that. Louis was in too much of a state to care.  
“Look daddy, I drew you a picture,” She said with a smile one day, while Louis was waiting impatiently for the almost weekly face time from Harry, and Louis looked towards his little girl as she held up a drawing of three round faces, one with long, brown curly hair, one with shorter curly hair, and another with what Louis could only describe as a scribble of lighter brown hair, “It’s our family! Like how we used to be, when you’d smile all the time…” It wasn’t said in a hinting way, or a sorrowful way. It was simply said as an innocent fact. A fact that an almost four year old had picked up better than an almost twenty-four year old. Darcy’s smiling green eyes looking at Louis, wanting praise for her hard-worked drawing. And in that moment, Louis felt terrible. He felt terrible for letting his own sorrow take over him, and wash over him and encase him like a rabbit trap, when he should have known better that Darcy felt just as terrible, probably worse now because not only had her papa left, but her daddy was miserable. She’d inherited Harry’s sixth sense as Louis liked to fondly call it. The ability to see through people, metaphorically speaking. To be able to figure out what they were thinking, how they were feeling, even if they thought they displayed no signs of showing it. And of course she missed her Papa. Just as much as Louis missed him, he was sure, and Louis struggled a smile as he pulled her onto his lap, instantly making a mental promise to himself that he was not going to be one of those fathers. He was not going to let his daughter suffer more than the poor thing already was. “That’s absolutely beautiful sweetheart,” he cooed as he looked over her drawing, “And I’m sorry that I’m not as smiley as I used to be, I just-“  
“You miss papa, and that’s okay for not being smiley.”  
Christ, she was like a three year old psychologist.  
So Louis gave his daughter a thankful smile, a kiss to her pink cheek and another round of praise on her lovely drawing, saying he’d be sure to hang it on the fridge, and then that sound that had become to sound like a choir of angels singing was heard, but was really only the beeping of an incoming face time. And that made them both have a much needed smile.  
“Papa!” Darcy’s face lit up at seeing his face light up in the small screen, and Harry reflected her smile, looking at the two of them, his features warn out, but clearly happy to see the both of them.  
“How’s my beautiful family?”  
Always the brave one.

On Darcy’s fourth birthday, which was spent without Harry, Louis planned on making it as special as possible, and the two had taken the three-hour trip to the beach, which had always been her favourite place in the world. Harry often calls her a beach baby, and Louis often thinks that maybe she was a dolphin in a past life.  
Louis let’s himself be happy on this day, and chases the pale blue waves with Darcy, who’s clothed in her new pink dress with the daisy pattern that Louis had bought her with Harry’s consent. Louis had send various photos of various dresses to Harry’s mobile, and Harry would reply with the dress he thought she’d like the best. Like a lot of the time, Harry was right.  
That morning, they’d gotten a surprise from Harry in the mail. Of course Harry had gotten her something, and she was delighted to see a teddy bear with curly brown fur and green glass eyes dressed in an army uniform, with a letter from Harry promising his love and that he’d be home to see his baby girl soon.  
They play in the waves for the whole day, and Louis buries Darcy’s lower body in the sand, shaping a tail out of it, and she giggles gleefully, which makes Louis more positive about his thoughts of Darcy being a dolphin. And when Darcy grows tired Louis buys fish and chips from the shop on the beach and they sit together with the picnic rug draped over their shoulders and Harry’s teddy securely in Darcy’s arms and both of them are happier than they’ve been in a long time. Louis plans on keeping it this way.  
Like a lot of the time, Louis was wrong.  
A month after Darcy turned four, they were greeted most unpleasantly by a letter from the United Kingdom Army, and Louis’ heart drops into his stomach. It’s never a good thing when you get a fancily written letter from the army when your boyfriend is fighting.  
Louis exhales a shaky breath that he didn’t realise he was holding, and with hesitant, even shakier fingers, he opens it.  
Dear Mr Tomlinson and family,  
We are sorry to inform you that your partner Harry Styles has been injured on mission, taking a bullet wound to the chest area and is in a critical state. But is however alive and fighting. We understand this is hard for you, and we wish you and your family all the best, and we pray for Harry’s recovery.  
UK Armed Forces.  
Harry’s hurt. Harry’s critical hurt. Harry’s critically hurt and Louis’ not there with him. Louis knows they wouldn’t send him a formal letter if this was something minor. If they knew there was a chance that Harry would recover from it before the letter has arrived to it, and that makes Louis feel faint, he feels like he has a boa constrictor wrapped around his body, sucking the absolute life and strength out of him, and he manages to move shakily to the couch, sitting down and reading and re-reading the letter. He prays to every God he knows of that Harry will be okay and he’ll recover and he’ll be home in a few months and they can all forget this ever happened. Oh god, Louis thinks he might actually be sick.  
He’s glad that Darcy’s sleeping peacefully in her bed, unknowing that her Papa might be dying.  
…  
Those next few weeks might possibly (definitely) be the worst few weeks of Louis’ life. He can barely bring himself to move, and if it wasn’t for the daughter he had who was being an angel through all of this, he most likely would have curled into a ball in his bed with his face against Harry’s pillow and cried until Harry was home and safe in his arms.  
He’d told Darcy reluctantly that Harry was sick, and she merely let out a whimper, asking Louis if he’d come home to them, and Louis replied with a quiet, ‘I hope so baby, God. I hope so.’ And Darcy gave Louis her Harry Bear to make him feel better.

On December the Second, they got the first face time from Harry in three weeks and two days (not that Louis had been counting) ((He was)), and Louis nearly squeaked from excitement and pressed the ‘accept call’ button. Harry’s face was pale. Not the kind of ‘boy version of snow white’ pale that he usually had, but ghostly, sickly pale. And Louis didn’t like it. But Harry was smiling at him, and his eyes were still that beautiful emerald green and both of his dimples showed that only happened when he was smiling really wide, and Louis almost started crying.  
“Jesus, I don’t look that ugly do I?” Harry teased in good nature after noticing Louis’ watery eyes (always the brave one), and Louis giggled, because leave it to Harry to make a dumb-arse joke at a time like this. He shook his head though, even though the question was rhetorical. “You look beautiful Harry, you know I think you always look beautiful,” He whispered, “I was just- I was so worried Harry.”  
Harry’s whole expression softened and Louis ached in his entire body to hold him. “I know you were baby, but look, I’m here and I’m okay. We’re going to be okay Boo,” Harry promised, and that’s all Louis needed. “We’re going to be okay,” Louis echoed, returning the smile and the two looked at each other for a moment, before Louis turned his head in the direction of Darcy’s room, where she was playing with her barbie dolls, and called for her.  
“daaaaddddy, I’m busy!” She called back, but obediently trudged into the living room, and when she catches a glimpse of Harry’s face on the screen, her entire face lit up, and Louis kind of really wished he could bottle that up and keep it in a locket around his neck and look at it whenever he was sad.  
There was a chorus of excited ‘Papa’s before she jumped onto Louis’ lap with a thud, “You’re okay! I knew you’d be okay! Coz nothing can hurt my papa and you’re going to be okay and I knew it!” She cheered, her childish voice mixed with absolute adoration for him, making the two men smile.  
“Of course I’m okay sugarplum, no one hurts your Papa,” Harry replied with a sure smile, making Darcy giggle, purely out of complete happiness, and then she asked if he’d be home for Christmas and Louis’ heart scrunched up and Harry let out a sigh at the attitude-changing question, “I don’t think so baby girl, but not long afterwards okay? I’m sorry angel.” And all three of them held glum expressions at the thought of spending Christmas apart. They spoke longer, trying to make light of the situation. Harry told them about his friend Niall who he’d met, and had looked after him while he was in recovery, and Darcy told Harry about going to the beach, and that they’re putting up the Christmas tree tomorrow and Daddy said that she gets to put on the angel this year, and Harry’s smile falters a bit at the thought of not being there, but he quickly returns it, he’s getting pretty good at this whole acting brave thing. “That’s fantastic honey, you’ll have to get daddy to send me a photo.” And they both nod, and then Harry’s time is up, and he farewells them with air kisses and I love you’s and I miss you’s and then he’s gone and the screens black and Louis and Darcy both sit there for a moment. The pain always hits back twice as hard when he leaves again.  
Louis knows he’s definitely not the brave one.  
…  
Tomorrow’s a better day, they parade around the Christmas Tree Farm, and Darcy definitely has a firm idea on what she wants for a tree. Each one Louis chooses out his ‘too big,’ or ‘too small’ or ‘too skinny’ or ‘daddy that’s not even a tree, that’s just a bush wanting to be a tree!’  
And finally, after what is probably close to a good hour and a half, a smile lights up Darcy’s face, and she points to a tree, that to Louis looks exactly the same as the last hundred that they’d looked at. But Darcy assures him it’s the best. So Louis takes a photo of her standing beside it and they get ‘the man that looks like Santa’ to chop it down, and they take it home.  
The evening is spent with the high-five Christmas album playing merrily in the background due to Darcy’s demand, and Louis’ not ashamed to admit he’s humming along to the tune of the songs. They work as a team to put the Christmas decorations on the tree. Darcy does the low ones, Louis does the medium-high ones, and he uses a stool to reach the top. Dammit Harry.  
When the tree is finished, completed with decorations ranging from candy canes to miniature reindeer to a Christmas wreath that Darcy made last year, Louis lifts her up as she puts the angel on the top, and Louis wishes Harry was here for this.  
When they were finished, Darcy had decided that now was an absolutely perfect time to paint her nails with the nail polish set she had gotten for her birthday, and ran upstairs, only to return a minute later carrying red and green nail polish ‘coz its Christmas daddy!’  
So somehow Louis got convinced to paint his daughters nails. He thinks maybe he’s as whipped for his daughter as he is for his boyfriend.  
Somewhere in the midst of it, Darcy manages to convince him to paint his own. So the twenty four year old man let his daughter messily paint his nails in sparkly green and red nail polish. It does actually look quite pretty if he does say so himself.  
They finish off the evening by eating store-bought gingerbreads and drinking hot chocolate. Darcy had convinced him to put extra marshmallows in her hot chocolate because she was ‘exceptionally well behaved and very much was in need of extra marshmallows’. Louis told her to stop using big words and put an extra two in.  
He tucked her into bed that night and kissed her forehead after she kissed his nose. They exchanged goodnights and ‘I love you’s and Louis told her a story about a duck and a fox who are best friends even though their mummy’s say they can’t. Darcy falls asleep half way through it, with her Harry Bear under one arm and her pink unicorn under the other. And Jesus, if she wasn’t the cutest thing Louis had ever seen in his life. He pecks her sleeping forehead once more, and leaves her to dream of ducks and candy canes and sparkly green nail polish.

Louis kind of expected it to get easier over time. Sleeping alone, having to go to bed without Harry and wake up without Harry. Louis was wrong. Especially now, when Christmas was just around the bend and other families were busy celebrating and being with each other and doing all that other family stuff and Louis just ached for Harry. He ached to be held and loved and lulled to sleep with Harry humming soft songs into his ear. He tried not to think about the fact that if Harry was here, he’d probably be singing the high-five Christmas songs to him, and Louis would laugh and tell him he was as bad as Darcy, and then maybe they’d kiss and maybe Louis should stop thinking about this before he had another break down and started crying into Harry’s pillow. It wouldn’t be long now though. Not long after Christmas, Harry had said.  
Those next couple of weeks passed by quickly, it snowed over the middle of December and Darcy was delighted. Louis wasn’t afraid to admit that he was just the tiniest bit excited to go and play in the snow too.  
On Christmas Eve, Louis was maybe a little bit more than slightly sad. Because it was also his birthday today and Harry should be here instead of fighting, and it made it all the more worse when Harry didn’t even send anything. All he wanted was a simple ‘Happy Birthday baby’ or maybe a phone call. Neither of those things came. He knew if Harry was here, he’d be making a fuss and cooking special meals and smothering him in cuddles and kisses. And Louis would pretend to hate it, when they both knew that he secretly adored being fawned over. He thinks he was stupid to ever pretend to not like it, because his whole body burns for the craving of Harry.  
Darcy knows something’s wrong, and she also knows its Louis’ birthday, because she wrote it down at the start of the year when she got her calendar with the baby animals on it. She climbed silently onto his lap on the chair he was sitting on, blankly watching the Christmas lights, and nuzzled up to him, “Papa will be home soon daddy, he promised, remember?” And wasn’t that a sight. His four year old daughter was comforting her twenty-five year old father with the same wisdom a mother would be doing it, and Louis’ eyes teared up just a little bit as he turned his attention to his worried looking angel of a daughter, her forehead creased into a single line of worry. Louis raised a finger and gently brushed his finger across the crease to send it away as a smile formed on the edge of his lips, “I know he will darling, I know,” and Darcy wrapped her little arms tightly around Louis’ neck and hugged him tightly, and Louis hugged her back, exhaling a shaky breath, “I love you so much sugar, you know that?” He didn’t think he told her that enough.  
“Course I know that daddy,” She responded, “I love you so mucher.”  
Louis just had to giggle at that, and kissed the bridge of her nose. Darcy’s eyes sparkled at hearing her daddy’s laughter, and Louis made it his mission for the day to brighten up, “Come on babe, we’re going to go carolling.” And Darcy’s eyes lit up like he’d just told her that her papa was at the front door.  
They rugged up in warm clothes, Louis dressed Darcy in her puffy red jacket and her scarf and gloves. She took her hand, and she held her bear in the other, because she brought it everywhere with her now, and they left the house, singing ‘Away In A Manger’ at the top of their lungs, and Louis knew that one day Darcy would be a singer just like her Papa with the way she sang. He could have mistaken her for an angel. They sang for hours, and Louis was glad to see that people actually wanted them to sing for them. There may or may not have been a couple of off-hand comments about the chipped, sparkly nail polish on his fingers.

Later that night, Darcy was curled into Louis’ lap and the soft sounds of the lightly playing Michael Bublé album filled and flowed through the room, the fire crackled near the Christmas tree, and the whole feel gave a sort of calming aura.  
“What do you want for Christmas daddy?”  
Louis didn’t actually think she was still awake, “I dunno baby. What do you want?”  
There was a small silence, as if she was hesitating to respond, and then a quiet, barely audible “I just want my papa home.”  
And Louis was reminded, not for the first time, how hard this was on little Darcy too. A four year old who hasn’t seen her papa in almost nine months, and so much has happened since then and she’s grown so much and experienced so much, all without her papa with her. And it was now Christmas eve and of course she wanted to be cuddled up with both of her daddy’s instead of just one. Of course she wanted her Papa home for Christmas. This was just as hard on her as it was for Louis, and Louis knew that.  
He wrapped his arms tighter around his little girl, and kissed her baby-soft cheek with an equally quiet, “I know you do baby, me too.”  
They were both silent after that, the only noises in the dimly lit room was the album still playing in the background, and the occasional crackling of the fire, lighting up and dancing both of their sleepy faces. It wasn’t long before Louis heard the soft sleep-assuring snores of Darcy, and cradled her closer to his chest as he stood up, her warm, sleep filled body drooping against him. He walked into her bedroom, and laid her ever so gently into her bed, pulling her duvet over her and pressing a kiss to her forehead. He was sure he grew more and more in love with her every day. Maybe it was because she was growing to look more and more like Harry every day.  
Louis still had presents to put under the tree, and it was quarter-to-midnight, so he wanted to do it quickly so he could at least get a few hours of sleep in, knowing Darcy would be up and jumping on his head at six in the morning. Brilliant.  
He walked up to his bedroom, put on another jumper (Of course it was one of Harry’s) and collected the pile that was much bigger than it probably should be, but Louis knew his little Darcy deserved it. Christ, she deserved the world.  
Collecting the gifts that he’d already wrapped the nights beforehand, when Darcy was sleeping soundly, he walked back to the living room, and placed them all under the tree, neatly stacking them underneath the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, he busied himself with humming along to the song that was now playing on the CD and arranging and rearranging the gifts, not that it really mattered. On the third time of rearranging, there was a knock at the door, and Louis jumped in surprise. He stood up and exhaled a sigh, walking towards the door. Lord knows what or who it would be at this ungodly hour.  
Wrapping his arms around himself, making the sleeves droop off of his hands and cover him more completely, he removed one arm from his torso to turn the door knob open, and his eyes widened when he saw a certain man in a military uniform, bright green eyes and brown curls falling into his face. Louis let out a small squeak, and for some unknown reason, even to him; he slammed the door shut, his mind absolutely, completely blank. After a few seconds, he realised what was happening, and opened the door again.  
“Not exactly the greeting I was expecting,” Harry’s voice sounded out from his beautiful lips with a chuckle, and Louis just absolutely lost it, and with a squeaky excuse of his boyfriend’s name, he leapt into his welcoming arms, his leg’s wrapping around Harry’s waist and his arms wrapping around his neck as Harry’s arms came to hold Louis close to him. Louis’ face was buried in against Harry’s neck, and soft, relieved sobs were escaping his lips, holding onto Harry so tightly, his arms and leg’s wrapped around Harry’s body so tightly that it was a wonder that he didn’t collapse from a lack of air, “You’re home, you’re home, you’re home,” Louis chanted in soft sobs.  
“I’m home baby, I’m home,” Harry repeated, his voice a bare whisper, and his arms held to Louis as tight as Louis was holding Harry, and finally everything seemed okay, all those months of waiting, and finally everything seemed okay. It’d been a fair amount of time since Louis had even gotten a message from Harry, and Louis was regrettably starting to think something had happened to Harry, or that he’d stopped caring enough to talk to Louis. Louis wasn’t sure which one was worse. But everything was okay now, Harry was home, Harry was here and alive and okay and Louis wished he could stop being such a baby and stop crying, but the tears continued to wrack his body, and Harry led him to the couch, sitting down with Louis on his lap as he held him close, fighting his own tears back as he rubbed Louis’ back, cooing softly and murmuring sweet words to him like ‘I’m home’ and ‘I’ve got you’ and ‘I love you so much baby.’ Louis’ crying calmed down, and he breathed in deeply, inhaling Harry’s scent of what could only be described as Harry, and it was the most wonderful, calming thing in the world. He used to cuddle Harry’s pillow and desperately try to breathe in Harry’s smell from that, but it had lost it some months ago. It was then that Harry moved back ever so slightly, just to see Louis’ face, and he was met with those beautiful blue eyes that he’d fallen in love with, and for the first time in eight and a half months, he gently, softly put his finger under Louis’ chin, and moved in ever so slowly to connect their lips. It wasn’t rushed, or desperate. Not like you’d think it would be after so much time spent apart. It was slow, and passionate, and remembering everything that both of them were heart-breakingly, slowly starting to forget. It was all gentle lips and soft touches and mapping each other out again to burn into their minds and bodies and spirits permanently. Not that Louis ever, ever planned on letting him go ever again.  
“I didn’t think you were coming home,” Louis whispered when their lips had parted and he had his head nestled under Harry’s neck again. He liked how he fit perfectly, like it was made for him and only him.  
“Couldn’t miss my baby’s birthday now could I?” Harry replied, as if it was as simple as that, and Louis responded with a quiet, sniffily giggle, “I love you so much Boo.”  
Louis responded with a kiss to Harry’s shoulder and an ‘I love you too,’ and then Harry was reaching into his pocket, and Louis sat up properly to look at him, and Harry’s face was in a way that made him look like he was hesitating, but it eventually softened and Louis wondered what was happening, before Harry pulled out a small, dark velvet box from the pocket of his military jacket, and Louis’ hand flew to cover the surprise shown on his mouth, making Harry laugh nervously.  
“This- I don’t know if this is the right time, coz I was kind of planning it being more romantic than this, but I suppose now’s better than ever,” he inhaled a deep breath, and his eyes locked onto Louis’. “Babe, I love you more than anything, I physically, mentally cannot function without you. Fuck, I didn’t know loving someone so much was possible, and being away for so long only made me realise how much more I need you, you make me happier than I’ve ever been Lou. You and Darcy are the point of my rescue, the font of my happiness, and I know we’re already a family, and I don’t know why I didn’t ask earlier, I guess because it all just kind of happened, but I want to make it official, I want to be able to tell the world who I belong to. Louis William Tomlinson, will you do me the wonderful privilege of being my husband?”  
Louis let out a choked sound, as if he was trying to keep in another cry, and he nodded without hesitation, “Yes, yes, yes, God Harry yes of course,” He stuttered out, and Harry breathed out a sigh of what Louis caught as relief, as he gently removed Louis’ hand from his mouth and slipped on the band onto his finger, “Happy birthday babe,” he whispered as he pulled Louis into another kiss. Louis thinks that he’s the luckiest, happiest man in this whole damn world.  
…  
When Darcy wakes up the next morning, Louis and Harry have thought up a plan on surprising her, and Harry had been hiding behind the Christmas tree for twenty minutes and Louis was only half-faking sleep when she came running into his bedroom. After Harry had come home that night, they went upstairs, their kisses slow and gentle and showing through actions the undying love between them, and slow, passionate sex happened, and neither of them got much sleep, much too happy to be in each other’s arms to think about something like sleeping.  
“Daddy, daddy, daddy wake up!” She chimed as she jumped onto his bed, and Louis acted a groggy wake up, “Morning babe, what are you doing up so early?” He teased light-heartedly, making her giggle and bounce on her bum on the bed, “’Coz it’s Christmas daddy!”  
“Is it now? I suppose we better see what Santa brought you then, hey?”  
To which she agreed fully, and Louis took her hand, and she led him to the living room, his heart fluttering in anticipation for Darcy’s reaction.  
Harry was hiding behind the tree, crouched down behind the load of presents which Louis had stacked, so that when Darcy moved one to open it, he’d be in her view. “Go on babe, go see what Santa’s brought you,” he whispered as he crouched down by her side, and she nodded with a large smile, toddling over to the pile with excitement lighting up her face, she moved a present from the pile to open it, and caught a view of curly brown hair, making her drop the present in surprise, and when Harry knew he’d been caught out, he stood up, and smiled down at his daughter, “Hi angel.”  
Darcy’s face was priceless, her mouth agape as she processed what was happening, and then she squealed, lunging herself towards Harry, “Papa!” she screamed, as Harry picked her up and held her tight in his arms, and by this stage all three of them were in tears. Harry buried his face against Darcy, before looking up with teary eyes at Louis, and smiled, opening his spare arm for him, to which Louis accepted straight away, and went over to the two of them, joining the hug and the tears.  
“My beautiful family,” Harry whispered, kissing both of his babies on the forehead before he held them both tightly again. And for the first time in what seemed to all three of them like an eternity, everything was in its place, everything was okay.  
And if they spent the rest of the day on the couch, cuddled up with each and singing meaningless Christmas carols- Well, Louis would be more than okay with that.


End file.
